Even after just a few days of Christmas break, Harry knew it was going to be so very hard to leave when the time came to return to Hogwarts.
Still, he was determined to make the most of it, and his family were happy to oblige, slipping back into their summer routine of spending the time after dinner all together in the main living room, playing chess or Bluff or just sitting together and reading.
During the day, however, most of the occupants of the house still had work to do of some kind, so often Harry and Draco were left to their own devices. That suited them perfectly well — knowing they would be out to the school when they got back didn't have either of them under the assumption that they'd find it any easier to spend time together privately.
But not all of their time was spent being hormonal teenagers. Just some of it. The rest was spent flying, or studying, or getting up to some kind of mischief.
Or, like now, working on Draco's animagus form. The blond was so close, and he was determined to get the transformation before they went back in January. Every free minute was spent in Harry's room with his eyes closed, meditating as hard as he could in search of that owl form.
Harry didn't mind; he was eager to see Draco transform, too. And in the mean time, he got to be a soppy idiot and stare at his boyfriend for ages while said boyfriend was too busy concentrating to notice.
Usually, Draco didn't even mind too much when Harry got bored of just looking and disrupted said concentration. As long as he waited long enough for Draco to give it a decent attempt.
This time, he hadn't been meditating for very long, however. Harry was amusing himself with wandlessly levitating increasingly heavy objects to try and find his limits — he was just wondering if levitating the bed he sat on would break Draco's concentration, when suddenly the boy's body blurred.
The next thing he knew, there was a snowy owl sitting on his bed.
"Draco!" Harry jumped to his feet, the desk rattling as it hit the ground abruptly. The owl hooted. "You did it!" He beamed at his owl-shaped boyfriend, throwing himself on the bed to get a closer look. "Oh, you're gorgeous, look at you."
Draco preened, letting Harry stroke gentle fingers down his feathers. He was larger than Hedwig, with wickedly sharp talons, and Harry smirked. "Mayhem, indeed," he drawled, earning a light glare from the owl. Draco would accept the nickname eventually; he insisted that of the two of them, Harry caused more mayhem. Which, he wasn't entirely wrong, but it was too late for that now.
He splayed his wings, as if to show off their impressive span, and gave a couple of unsteady hops. "You want to try flying?" Harry presumed, and Draco's head bobbed. "It's really windy outside, love. Maybe wait for a calmer day?" He didn't want Draco getting hurt. "Practice getting in and out of the form first. Make sure you can transform back."
The owl's eyes narrowed in a glare, but after a few moments Draco was human once more, kneeling on the mattress. Harry didn't waste any time in pouncing on him, pinning him down and kissing him. "I'm so proud of you!" he enthused, watching Draco grin up at him.
"It's so weird, being a bird," he said, tone a mix of perturbed and reverent. "I should show Mother. And Uncle Sev!"
"In a minute," Harry agreed, peppering more kisses down the Slytherin's jaw. "I'm not done being proud of you yet."
Draco snorted, but didn't argue, splaying his knees slightly to cradle Harry between them. "If you must," he mock-sighed, biting at Harry's lower lip. "But then we're going to show everyone. And teach me to fly. The ballroom's big enough for it." He gasped softly as Harry sucked on the sensitive spot on his throat.
"Sounds like a plan," the dark-haired boy agreed, grinning against Draco's skin. Snape was brewing anyway; they had some time to kill before Draco could go show off.
.-.-.
It was only years of experience that kept Severus' hand steady as he poured fresh-brewed Nerve Tonic into a vial while the Mark on his forearm burned with pain. He grit his teeth against it, finishing up his work. At least the summons had come at the end of his brewing session, not in the middle. He hated when he ruined work because of the Dark Lord.
Only when everything was safely stored did he summon his robe and mask, sweeping from the lab. Sirius happened to be in the main hallway, and he grimaced at the sight of Severus buttoning his dark robe. "I'll let Moony know. Be safe," he offered. Severus merely nodded. Then, he was headed briskly down the darkened driveway, footsteps muffled by the snow. The Mark burned hotter, more urgent; following its call once he was past the wards felt almost involuntary. He arrived to a much larger gathering than expected, and his heart began to sink.
"At last, Severus," the Dark Lord drawled, beckoning him closer. "I was beginning to think you would not arrive."
"Apologies, My Lord," Severus murmured bending to kiss the hem of the monster's robes. "I was in the middle of a sensitive potion, it had to be stabilised before I could leave it."
"Indeed." The response was noncommittal, and Severus braced himself for a Cruciatus, but it never came. "No matter; you are here now. We can leave."
"Leave, My Lord?"
Voldemort's thin lips twisted in a dangerous smile. "They keep you so busy at that castle. I'm sure you have plenty of frustrations at those brats — at the Potter boy, so close and yet you cannot harm him. At the Malfoy boy… you must be so disappointed in his… choices."
Severus expertly pushed back all his pride and love for Draco behind his Occlumency walls, letting himself scowl. "You have heard of his romance with Potter, then, My Lord?" he replied, trying to sound utterly disgusted. Red eyes burned.
"They will both be destroyed, in due time," the Dark Lord promised him. "For now, however, I offer you another outlet for those frustrations."
Severus' heart sank even further as several Death Eaters whooped eagerly behind him, Bellatrix Lestrange the loudest among them. "You honour me, My Lord."
That hideous face grew even more so with the grotesque expression of glee, and when the Dark Lord offered his arm, Severus had no choice but to take it.
They reappeared in what seemed to be a perfectly ordinary muggle residential area. Fairly affluent, by the looks of it; middle-class, nothing enormously fancy, but certainly far nicer than where he'd grown up. Several houses had lights on, the families curled up watching TV in the winter evening. Many of the houses had coloured lights strung up outside — it was a cheerful scene. Peaceful.
It would not remain so for long.
A series of cracks heralded the arrival of the rest of the Death Eaters. There had to be at least twenty of them; Voldemort had started bringing larger groups on these things in the last few months, since the Order had started thwarting them so soundly.
If only there were a way for Severus to alert them now, without blowing his cover. "Enjoy yourselves, my loyal subjects," Voldemort instructed, raising his wand. "You have earned it."
And then the chaos began.
Immediately, one of the houses burst into flames. The Death Eaters around him started to fan out, shouting and cackling as they blew up cars and destroyed gardens. A few curious — or stupid — muggles stepped out of their homes, some holding knives or cricket bats or even, in one case, an umbrella. All of them stopped in their doorways, staring agog at the terrifying physical impossibilities happening before them, then screaming as their torture began.
Severus could not allow himself to think. He had a cover to maintain; he had his own life to protect.
He made a beeline for a house that had not yet been claimed by his fellows, blasting the door open with an unnecessarily showy flourish.
Maybe if he was loud enough, the muggles inside might run before he reached them.
But that was not the case. He found three of them, huddled upstairs in the smallest bedroom — a man, a woman, and a young child. Bile rose in Severus' throat, but he pushed it away. They would not survive the night, no matter what he did. Had he been younger, more foolish, he might have tried some elaborate ruse for them to feign death until the danger had passed. But he knew better now.
The best he could offer them was a quick, painless death.
Three flashes of green light, and the room was hauntingly silent. Severus grit his teeth, and got to work, his magic cutting into their skin and tugging at their clothes, twisting the child's neck at an unnatural angle.
If he worked well enough, none of those with him would realise all the damage had been done post-mortem.
Just in case, he set fire to the child's bed, letting the flames leap from one polyester stuffed toy to the next, catching the corner of the curtains and melting the brightly coloured plastic play contraption beneath.
He turned away, confident the whole room would be ashes before anyone could stop it.
If only his night could end there.
Stepping back out into the cold street, he saw the other Death Eaters had rounded up a whole cluster of muggles, jeering at them as they huddled together and cried. Many of them were dead on the outskirts of the group — those who had tried to fight back, perhaps.
"Come, Severus!" Bellatrix cackled, her mask abandoned and her features rapturous as she held a muggle under a Cruciatus curse. "Pick one, pretend it's that foul brat of Cissa's! Look, there's a blond one for you!" She jerked her wand, and a teenage boy was separated from the rest — he looked a little younger than Draco, his hair a little darker, but the similarities were enough to almost break Severus' composure. He grit his teeth, raised his wand, tried not to look the boy in the eye.
"Sectumsempra!" he called curtly — no one would begrudge him using his signature spell, the creation he had been so proud of as a teen.
Huge gashes appeared across the boy's chest. Severus made sure the magic cut deep enough — the boy was dead in less than a second. Someone in the crowd wailed; a mother, perhaps. Beside him, Bellatrix pouted exaggeratedly.
"That's no fun!" she cried, like a child denied their toys. "You're supposed to make it last!"
"Forgive me," Severus drawled, as cool and unruffled on the outside as always. "My temper seems to have… overtaken me. As you suggested, I was imagining the Malfoy boy."
Bellatrix cackled again, grinning a bloodthirsty grin. "It's so easy to slip, isn't it? They're so weak." She shot off a Cutting curse into the huddle, and a scream answered. "You'll have to do better with the next one, Sevvie — you've been out of the game for far too long!"
The Dark Lord didn't often send Severus on raids such as this; his position at the school, his ability as a Potions Master, it all made him far too valuable to risk just on a bit of muggle slaughter. Clearly he thought Severus deserved a reward.
That, or he was so confident in his hold over the Ministry that he thought it wouldn't matter even if Severus did get caught.
Severus braced himself for another round, mind working frantically to think of how he could make this one look more torturous — then a shout of alarm went up that wasn't from the muggles.
"Order's coming!" someone warned, their voice magically amplified. "Scatter!"
His knees almost buckled with relief, but he didn't have time to be thankful. The Death Eaters around him began to apparate away, many of them throwing one last lethal curse at the group of muggles before they vanished. Severus turned on the spot, envisioning Voldemort's manor, and with a squeezing sensation he was gone.
Privately, he hoped Bellatrix stayed long enough to get caught. Long enough for one of the Order to kill her. But he doubted it — she was too clever for that, even in her insanity. Sure enough, she returned only a few beats after him, holding something that dripped blood on the floor. It took Severus a few moments to realise it was the decapitated head of the blond muggle boy he'd killed. "Picked out an early Christmas present for myself," she declared proudly, holding it up. "Do you like it?"
"…Charming."
She giggled, then straightened up as the Dark Lord strode out in front of the gathered crowd. Severus hadn't counted, but it seemed like there were fewer of them than they'd started with.
Good.
"One day, we shall show Dumbledore's precious Order exactly how little they can do to stop our glorious future," Voldemort remarked in his chilling, sibilant voice. "For now, we will let them clean up our messes and think they are succeeding." A few cheers burst out, but were quickly silenced by a red-eyed glare. "Severus," the monster called, and Severus walked forward obediently, trying to stop his heart from hammering. "You seemed… unenthusiastic. Did you not like your reward?"
"I enjoyed it deeply, My Lord," he replied, bowing his head. "I am very grateful for the opportunity. It has been so long… I wanted to take in the atmosphere, before I dirtied my hands."
The Dark Lord smirked, and Severus knew that would not be enough. "Crucio." He was on his knees, screaming, his nerves turning into a hundred thousand acid-coated knives. The pain lasted so long he thought he might die from it. When it finally ended, he gasped for breath, muscles shuddering with aftershocks. "You disappoint me, Severus. I cannot have one of my best men losing his touch, now, can I?" Voldemort drawled, to chuckles from the crowd.
"Next time I will do better, My Lord," Severus rasped, keeping his gaze on the floor. Waiting for another curse. Knowing it was coming didn't make it any easier to bear.
"The school has made you soft," his master told him. "But no matter. Before long we will have the school much as we have the Ministry, and you will be free to truly indulge yourself."
Severus had not yet heard anything about a plan to take Hogwarts, and terror shot through his trembling form — was there a plan going on that he didn't know about, or was the Dark Lord just pontificating about his vague and glorious plan for the future?
He hoped it was the latter. He didn't want to dwell on the implications of the former.
Painfully, carefully, he dragged himself to his feet, trying not to stagger too obviously as they were all dismissed. He couldn't show weakness here, not if he wanted to survive. Putting all his remaining strength into his thoughts of home, he apparated away, falling to his knees over the ward boundary of Seren Du.
"Oh, Master Severus!" Ceri gasped, and his vision was a blur as a small hand gripped him by the arm, the strange feeling of elf transportation overtaking him, sending another wave of aftershocks through his body.
"Fuck! Severus." That was Remus, and Severus recoiled from the familiar touch — he couldn't, he was filthy, he was a murderer, Remus shouldn't touch him. "Ceri, get the Nerve Tonic, highest strength." A moment, and then a vial was pressed against his lips. Severus swallowed clumsily, the potion instantly burning the pain and the trembling from his limbs. His heart rate began to return to normal. His fogged vision cleared. Remus' handsome face came into focus barely a foot away from him, those amber eyes full of worry and love so plainly it made Severus ache. "What happened?"
"Muggle hunting," Severus croaked out, keeping the contents of his stomach within him only through sheer force of will. "He thought I needed a reward for having to put up with the students and Dumbledore. He was not pleased with my performance — apparently I have lost my touch."
Remus' face twisted in fury, and for a moment Severus' heart stopped as he thought it might be directed at him. Then those features softened — not pity, never pity, but something close enough to make Severus' heart clench. "Come on, love. Let's get you out of those robes, into a nice hot bath. Can you stand? Can— can I help you up?"
Severus flinched. "I have killed four muggles tonight," he said flatly. "Two of them children."
Remus flinched too, a small movement he couldn't hide from Severus' keen eyes. "I'm sure you gave them a cleaner death than anyone else would have allowed them," he replied all the same, not a trace of doubt in him.
What had Severus done, to deserve such stalwart loyalty?
"Come here," the werewolf urged, voice cracking — heart breaking, much like Severus', much like it always did on nights like this. Over and over again, an endless cycle, one the foolish wolf wouldn't remove himself from no matter how often Severus begged him to leave, insisted he deserved better.
Severus was too tired to be that noble, right now. He collapsed into Remus' waiting arms, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Remus held him, cried with him, eased him up the stairs and out of his robes and into the bath. He didn't judge Severus' murderous hands; just held them lovingly, kissed his palms, murmured his devotion and his understanding and his assurances that he would always be there to pick up Severus' shattered self. He didn't promise it would never happen again. That was a promise none of them could make.
Seven months. Seven months until Harry turned seventeen, until it could finally be over, one way or another.
He could cope with seven more months of this.
As long as he had Remus, he could cope with far worse.
.-.-.-.
T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring — except Sirius, padding barefoot down the stairs in search of his wayward partner. Everyone had gone to bed; though with the strength of the Silencing charm on Harry's room, Sirius knew better than to expect everyone was sleeping. He had gone up to shower, fully expecting his gorgeous boyfriend to be waiting on the bed for some antics behind a Silencing charm of their own, only to find their room empty.
Charlie had been quieter, lately. He was trying to hide it, but Sirius could tell.
He found the dragon tamer in the kitchen, a mug of tea cradled in his large hands. He looked up at Sirius' entrance, face turning sheepish. "Hey. I was on my way up, I just…" He trailed off, shaking his head, smiling lopsidedly. "Never mind."
Sirius snorted, glad they weren't going to bother with the feeble excuses. He shuffled forward, perching on the edge of the table beside the shorter man, pressing their shoulders together. "Talk to me."
Charlie sighed, his head tilting to lean against Sirius'. "I… when I lived in Romania, I knew I'd miss family Christmas most years. I was single, no kids — I was the natural choice to stay on the Reserve over the holidays. It didn't bother me. But… I'm not in Romania any more. I can't kid myself into thinking I'm missing family Christmas because I can't get there — I wasn't invited, my own bloody mother doesn't want me there, I—" He broke off, breath hitching, and Sirius' whole chest ached for him. He turned, worming an arm around Charlie's back, kissing his temple.
"I'm sorry, love. This is my fault—"
"Don't even start," Charlie interrupted stubbornly. "The only thing you ever did was love me, and don't you dare apologise for that. This is on her. She's had it out for you long before we got together — whatever she thinks she is to Harry, you threatened that, and she hates you for it. And part of me hates her for that, a bit. For stealing from him, for lying to that poor kid who just wanted to be loved. For treating you like shit. When I was younger, I always thought my mum was perfect." He gave a bitter snort. "I know better, now. I… I love you, Sirius, and I love being here with you. I'm honoured to be involved in your Yule celebrations — you've made me part of your family, and that's amazing. I'm not saying I don't want to be here, but I—"
"You miss your family," Sirius finished for him. "Fuck, Charlie, of course you do! Your relationship with your mother might be difficult, but you've still got your dad, and the rest of your siblings. Even if Ron is a little berk." Charlie snickered tearfully. "I wish I knew how to make it all better, love," Sirius murmured, running a hand through Charlie's hair, tucking the man's head under his chin. Sometimes he felt ancient compared to his boyfriend — but this wasn't even about age. This was just Sirius' own years of experience having his parents hate him. He'd pretended it didn't bother him, as a kid, but James had always seen through that bullshit in a heartbeat.
He couldn't imagine what it was like to be Charlie, to have grown up in a loving family and only now have it fall apart as an adult.
"Things will get better," he promised. "Once the war's over." Once they stopped having to live in Seren Du for their own safety. Once Dumbledore was gone and Molly could be forced to confront the consequences of her own actions. "I can't promise your mother will come around. But when it's all over, at least you'll have the rest of your family with you." He kissed Charlie's fiery hair. "We'll have Yule at the Pottery next year. Invite all your siblings over for dinner." It would be chaos, and they would love every second of it.
"That would be nice," Charlie agreed softly. "I… I know things will be different. We're all getting older. Bill will be married next year, and even the kids are pairing off like nobody's business. Soon we'll all be alternating family holidays and starting our own traditions and we might not even bother doing the big family thing at the Burrow anymore. But this year…" He sighed, and Sirius held him tighter.
This year he was missing it not because he was busy, or there were other plans, but because Molly didn't want to see him as long as he was still with Sirius. Sirius couldn't help the guilt that pooled within him, but he ignored it; he'd done his time convincing Charlie not to get involved with him. It was too late to try again. He was in far too deep, now.
"Think of this year as a fresh start," he offered, nudging the younger man up to look him in the eye. "Starting our own traditions, like you said. It's the first Christmas me and Harry are having here. First Yule I've had since Jamie died. First one Moony and Severus have actually been able to spend together in I don't even know how long. And the less said about the Malfoys' Yule traditions, the better." He kissed Charlie's cheek, then his lips, soft and tender. "I'm not trying to replace your family. Next year we'll have a home where all your siblings will be welcome, and your dad too." He'd make no promises about Molly. "And if you want to go see them tomorrow, you're more than welcome to. But if it helps any, think of this as the beginning of our family, rather than missing out on yours."
He wasn't sure if that was even remotely helpful, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. He personally was overjoyed at how the Yule period had been going so far, but he knew it wasn't that simple for Charlie. He hadn't felt as much heartache through their Yule dinner and rituals on the solstice — the Weasleys hadn't celebrated Yule in generations, now — but with the newness past, and Christmas coming in the morning… the redhead was clearly starting to feel the separation.
Slowly, a smile crept over that gorgeous face. The dimples didn't show, but it was much better than the sadness that had been in his eyes a moment ago. "The beginning of our family," he repeated. The words made Sirius' heart stutter in a way it hadn't when they'd been in his own mouth. Our family. "I like the sound of that."
When Charlie leaned in to kiss him, Sirius melted into it, their tongues twining lazily. "I love you so much," Charlie breathed, sending warmth all the way to the tips of Sirius' toes.
"Let's go to bed," Sirius suggested, smiling slightly. "Before Ceri comes down to scold us for sitting on tables."
Charlie snickered, hopping down and tugging Sirius with him, setting his cold mug of tea aside. The house elf was giving them privacy, bless her, but Sirius didn't want to push their luck. She had a lot of food to prep for tomorrow, after all. He tangled his fingers in Charlie's, leading the way to the stairs, his thoughts now no steamier than just cuddling the hell out of his love until they fell asleep.
He couldn't do anything about Molly, but he could make sure Charlie had the best Christmas possible regardless.
.-.-.
Waking up on Christmas morning at Seren Du wasn't the same as at Hogwarts, or even the Weasleys' — there was no pile of presents at the end of his bed. Those were all under the tree, in the living room.
But there was a warm Draco curled tight around him, which in Harry's opinion was far better than any present.
He ran a hand through blond hair, gently nudging Draco awake. "Hey, sleepy," he teased. "Get up, it's Christmas."
Grey eyes blinked hazily, and Harry couldn't resist the urge to kiss those softly pouting lips. "Good morning."
"What time is it?" Draco asked suspiciously, and Harry chuckled.
"Half seven. Not too obscene, I promise." Harry was definitely more of an early riser than Draco; the Slytherin would sleep til noon most days of the holidays if they let him.
Draco groaned anyway, burrowing his face in Harry's neck. Harry laughed, rolling them over to pin Draco to the mattress playfully. "Come on, it's Christmas!" he wheedled. "The sooner we get up, the sooner there's presents!"
That perked Draco up a little bit. "Only once everyone else is up," he pointed out. "No one is allowed to touch their presents until Mother has had her coffee."
Considering Sirius' childhood festivities had been almost as depressing as Harry's, they were modelling their new family traditions on the Malfoy household's way of celebrating the winter season — namely, celebrating both Yule and Christmas. According to Sirius and Remus, the Potters had done something similar; the solstice held the burning of the Yule Log, the traditional dinner of roast boar, the midnight ritual to strengthen magic on the Longest Night and ask for blessings to help them through the deepest part of winter. Then, Christmas Day would hold gift-giving and another big dinner, in the traditions Harry was more familiar with.
As far as he was concerned, it meant double the celebrations, so Harry was more than happy to adopt this form of holiday cheer. The Yule ritual had been a real eye-opener; his magic still felt like it was buzzing a little, even now. There was a loud knock on the door, startling both boys. "I hope you're decent!" was all the warning Sirius gave them before opening the door, and Harry laughed — if they weren't, the dog animagus would have never made it through Harry's wards and both of them knew it. "Merry Christmas, boys!"
"Merry Christmas, Sirius," Harry chirped brightly, rolling off Draco and dragging himself into a sitting position. Draco just buried his face in Harry's hip, making them both laugh.
"Come on, kiddo," Sirius teased, playfully yanking Draco's leg beneath the duvet. "Ceri's got breakfast going and coffee brewing."
"Fine, fine, I'm getting up," Draco relented, yawning.
"I expect you both down in ten minutes, alright?" Sirius instructed, grinning devilishly. "Don't get distracted."
Harry tossed a pillow at him, sending the laughing man from the room.
With the promise of delicious food and presents, they didn't linger in bed, putting dressing gowns on over their pyjamas. Apparently Lucius Malfoy had been insistent that everyone be fully dressed for Christmas breakfast, and that was one aspect of the tradition the remaining Malfoys were happy to throw out the window.
The kitchen was full when they reached it, the air full of incredible smells. Sure enough, Narcissa had a mug of strong coffee cradled in her hands, looking unfairly elegant in a silver velvet dressing gown over her blue silk pyjamas. It was something in the Black genes, Harry decided — even Sirius, hair loose and wearing a grey t-shirt and red plaid pyjama bottoms, looked the kind of attractively dishevelled that Harry would never be able to accomplish.
Season's greetings were exchanged, and the congregation was moved to the living room, where the staggering pile of presents beneath the elaborately decorated Christmas tree awaited. Sirius and Narcissa had gone all out — the two of them left unsupervised were a dangerously competent team.
"Go on, boys," Narcissa prompted, smiling indulgently and gesturing to the tree. Harry and Draco didn't need telling twice — they hurried to kneel by the pile, levitating presents to their recipients.
The next half hour was a riot of wrapping paper and sounds of delight. Harry goggled at his own pile of presents; books and clothes and sweets and all sorts of things he'd never even anticipated. "One of these days you're going to run out of things to buy me," he told his godfathers laughingly, opening another box from the pair of them, this one containing an Astronomy globe — a device that would project the stars of any given day up on the walls of the room he put it in. Sirius would never let him live down that E in Astronomy!
"Not possible," Sirius assured him, beaming. "We'll just have to get more creative as you get older."
Harry almost made a joke about Sirius soon having his own kids to spoil rotten instead of Harry, but he held his tongue — he knew Charlie was a bit sensitive on the subject of family these days, and he didn't want to put his foot in it.
He saw Draco open a patchwork quilt from Andromeda much like the one she'd made for Harry himself, except this one was in shades of green rather than black and grey. "Oh, good, I can have my blanket back now," he teased, kissing the blond's cheek. Ever since Harry had brought it to Draco when he was unwell, it had stayed in the blond's dormitory. Harry didn't really mind, glad it could bring some comfort to his boyfriend.
Suddenly, Remus let out a loud gale of laughter, and all of them turned to see Snape holding a wooden sign on a ribbon — 'Brewing in Progress; intruders will be diced and used as ingredients'. There was even a little cartoon cauldron beneath it, with a human leg sticking out of it.
"Where the hell did Tonks find that?" Remus crowed delightedly. Snape wasn't nearly so impressed, though Harry thought he could see a flicker of amusement in those dark eyes.
"I bet Ted made it," Sirius offered, grinning. "He does all kinds of woodwork and stuff."
"Perhaps this will mean I actually get some privacy in this house," Snape drawled, making Narcissa scoff.
"There is only one person in this house who dares interrupt your brewing without good reason, and I would like to see you turn him into ingredients." Her gaze landed pointedly on Remus, and a pale flush rose on Snape's cheeks.
"Not many potions call for werewolf parts," Remus assured cheerfully, winking.
As the piles of unwrapped gifts grew higher and the shreds of wrapping paper began to take over the remaining floor space, Sirius set a record of muggle Christmas songs on the player, declaring it was time for eggnog.
Apparently even in the Black family traditions it was standard to start getting drunk before noon.
Harry looked over his own pile, feeling a small pang in his chest at one glaring absence. He glanced over at Charlie — he, too, was missing the annual Weasley jumper. The redhead caught Harry's eye, blue gaze turning knowing, smile tightening at the corners. Getting to his feet, Harry moved to claim Sirius' vacated seat beside the redhead, squeezing him around the waist. "I'm sorry."
Charlie's huge arm slung across Harry's shoulders. "Not your fault, kid," he insisted. "She'll come around." He gave a short, somewhat hollow laugh. "Merlin, she sent a jumper to Percy even when he told the whole damn family to go fuck themselves in favour of the Ministry. Nice to know where we stand, eh?" He ruffled Harry's hair, then stood up. "Don't worry about it, Harry. No need to let her being petty ruin our day, yeah?"
As the dragon tamer wandered over to assist Sirius in pouring eggnog, tugging him into a playful dance as soon as he was done, Harry smiled to himself. Charlie was right — there was way too much happiness around him to let Mrs Weasley spoil it. He was spending Christmas with Draco — more importantly, Draco and Narcissa didn't have to spend it with Lucius and a bunch of Death Eaters. Remus and Snape could spend the whole day together, and he could be with them and Sirius. The Tonks' would be over for dinner later. And he'd see his friends and the rest of the Weasleys he cared about at New Year's.
He laughed as Sirius dipped Charlie exaggeratedly, both of them almost spilling their eggnog.
They'd never have everyone with them for Christmas, not the way their family had grown. But this was a damn good start.
.-.-.-.
Dinner itself, starting at precisely one in the afternoon under Ceri's keen eye, was a loud and cheerful affair. Different to a Weasley Christmas dinner, but no less full of love and laughter. Especially not with Tonks at the table — there was no way Charlie could get properly maudlin with his best friend sat beside him, making far too many jokes and almost spilling the entire gravy boat over herself.
By the end of it, his belly was full to bursting and his heart was the same, a wide grin on his face as he watched Harry try and trap Remus and Severus under enchanted mistletoe.
"You're gonna end up with detentions if you're not careful," Tonks teased, making Harry snort.
"I already have regular detentions with him," he pointed out.
"You have training sessions disguised as detentions," Snape cut in, setting fire to the mistletoe with a wave of his wand. "I can always change them to actual detentions, since you clearly miss them so much. There are plenty of cauldrons that need scrubbing, even though I no longer teach the subject."
Harry grimaced, hurriedly setting his hands in his lap. Across the room, Remus snickered.
When the Tonks family started making noises about leaving, Charlie sidled over to Sirius, kissing his partner's cheek. "I'm going out for a bit," he warned. Sirius' grey eyes turned knowing.
"Want someone to come with you?"
Charlie knew that if he asked, Sirius would join him. Even if that would be a total disaster. Hell, any of them would join him; Tonks, Remus, even Narcissa would happily stand at his shoulder while he went to face his mother. But he couldn't ask that of them.
"Nah, think it's best if I go alone. I won't be long."
The dog animagus frowned slightly, but nodded, kissing him chastely. "Send a Patronus if you need me. Give the family my love."
"Will do."
He stayed long enough to see off their guests, then slipped away while the kids were cajoling Narcissa into a game of Bluff. It was brisk outside compared to the warmth within, and his shoulders hunched as he walked to the wardline, his heart beating a staccato in his chest.
He never thought he'd feel this anxious about going to his own family home.
Charlie apparated away, arriving at the gate of the Burrow. He paused to stare up at it; the same lopsided structure he'd grown up in, as always looking like a strong wind might knock it all down.
Home.
Was it home, now?
Even when he'd lived in Romania, the Burrow had been home. But this last year… When he thought of home, he thought of family, yes. But he thought mostly of grey eyes and a bark-like laugh, of the welcome he got whenever he stepped through the doors of Seren Du.
His stomach churned. But he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. He'd faced dragons, he could handle his mother.
He started walking towards the house, and knocked on the front door.
Charlie could hear the bustle of the whole family on the other side of the door — his mother calling for someone to answer it, then yelling at the twins to stop whatever it was they were doing. Ginny laughing. The door opened, and Charlie found himself face to face with his father, who practically crumpled in relief at the sight of him. "Oh, Charlie," he sighed, wrapping his second eldest son in a crushing hug. It took everything Charlie had not to break down in tears right there. "I hoped you'd stop by."
"I… I wasn't sure if I should," Charlie admitted. "Didn't know if I'd be welcome. I— Mum didn't send a jumper."
Heartbreak flashed across Arthur Weasley's face. "My boy," he murmured, patting Charlie's cheek. "Your mother is… upset. But you will always be welcome in this house, you hear me? No matter what." His gaze turned pointed. "As will Sirius Black."
Charlie grimaced. "Don't know about that," he muttered, imagining how that might go down.
"Arthur! Who is it?" came the call from inside the house. Arthur looked back at his son.
"Are you coming in? Everyone will be pleased to see you."
Charlie loved his dad, right then, for phrasing it like a question — for giving him one last chance to turn around and avoid the fallout. He almost took it.
"I've come this far," he said instead, and his dad smiled, stepping back to let him inside.
"We have a visitor, Molly!" he replied, and Charlie heard the frantic scramble within as they all tried to guess who it might be.
He followed his dad through to the kitchen, stopping in the threshold, hands clenched tight at his sides.
The family was just at the tail end of their own Christmas dinner, a mostly-eaten Christmas pudding at the centre of the table. Charlie felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, looking in at his siblings all sat around the table without him. The only break in the sea of red hair was Hermione at Ron's side, and Fleur, tucked under Bill's arm, the couple staring at him wide-eyed.
Stood at the sink, Molly froze.
"Hi, everyone," Charlie greeted awkwardly. "Uh. Merry Christmas. Thought I'd just… pop in."
"Charlie!" Ginny was the one to break the tension, jumping to her feet and launching herself at her favourite brother. Charlie hugged her close, nose pressed to her strawberry-scented hair. Merlin, he'd missed her.
That was the trigger for the rest to follow — the twins hugged him, delighting in reminding him they were now taller than him. Bill ruffled his hair like he was twelve again, kissing his temple. "Good to see you, Char," he murmured softly. Fleur hugged him, too, kissing both his cheeks and thanking him for the bracelet he'd sent her. Even Ron clapped him on the shoulder, looking uncomfortable. Through it all, his mother didn't move.
"I would've thought you'd have other places to be today," she said tersely, once things had quieted down and Charlie had let himself be talked into a small slice of pudding. He winced.
"I wanted to see everyone. But I can leave, if you'd prefer."
"No one is leaving," Arthur cut in firmly, his hand on Charlie's arm. "We're delighted to have you here, as long as you're willing to stay."
Molly's lips thinned, but she didn't argue.
Charlie wasn't sure what he'd expected, honestly. For her to scream the house down? For her to pull out a jumper and say how sorry she was?
He forced his gaze away, smiling at his siblings instead. "Harry and everyone send their love," he told them. "And he loves the pranks you sent him," he added to the twins, who smirked. "I don't know if the rest of us are quite so grateful, mind."
"It's market research!" Fred insisted cheerfully.
"We can always give you something to get back at him with?" suggested George.
"I'll keep that in mind." Charlie wasn't sure more pranks was the solution to that particular problem.
"I suppose you're staying with the Malfoys, then?" his mum piped up. "We've all heard the news. If you're with him, you must be with them."
"You can say his name, you know, Mum," Charlie retorted. "But yes, Sirius and I are spending the holidays with the Malfoys. And Harry and Remus, of course." They didn't need to know that they weren't doing so at Malfoy Manor.
"Well Sirius ought to be careful about the kind of people he's letting influence poor Harry," Molly replied in the same tone.
"If you're about to start in on Slytherins, Mum," George warned, and she huffed.
"So it's silly of me to be suspicious of people who have spent the last few decades supporting You-Know-Who, is it?" she argued. "People who have made a point of tearing down our family at every chance they got!"
"That was only ever Lucius," Charlie defended.
"That's a lie; Malfoy had it out for us since we started school!" Ron said hotly. "I don't know what he's got over Harry but he's always been a git!"
"He was eleven, Ron," Ginny sniped. "He's grown up since then, which is more than I can say for you!"
"Now, Charlie, you can't tell me you think it's normal, how quickly Harry has gone from practically being part of our family to refusing to talk to Ron! He was so rude to me last year when we were all at Headquarters — he's ignoring Professor Dumbledore, even! I can't be the only one who's concerned about his behaviour; his friendship with the Malfoy boy can't mean anything good!"
"He was rude because he knows you stole from him, Mum!" Charlie blurted furiously. Silence fell abruptly. Charlie's eyes widened in horror, Bill and the twins mirroring his expression, while the rest just looked confused.
"What?" Arthur spluttered, bewildered. "Charlie, what do you mean?"
He shouldn't have said anything, but it was too late to take it back now. "Dumbledore gave Mum Harry's vault key every summer, and she stole money from his account. Multiple times," he confessed, staring his mother down. "He found out about it ages ago. He didn't want you to know that he knew — didn't want to cause trouble in the family. But I can't sit there and listen to you talk about how concerned you are about him when you were perfectly happy to steal from a twelve year-old who thought the world of you!"
"What does it matter if Mum took a bit of money?" Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes. "He's loaded, it's not like he'd miss it."
"That's not the point, Ron!" Charlie snapped. "I'm sure if anyone had asked, Harry would have given you all the money you needed! He's that kind of person. But to take from him without so much as a word, to pretend to welcome him into the family just to get access to him…" He shook his head, disgusted.
"Molly," Arthur started, eyes narrowing. "Is this true?"
"I— it was just the money for his school things! And a bit extra — we had an extra mouth to feed, after all. I didn't think he'd mind. Albus said it would be fine."
"Almost two hundred galleons," Bill said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. "Between Harry starting school and getting the security changed on his vault."
Molly's face reddened. Arthur stared at his eldest son. "You knew about this, too?"
"Harry told us not to tell you," Bill replied. "He wasn't sure if you knew — and if you didn't, he didn't want to cause problems, like Charlie said."
"I never should have brought it up," Charlie said. He was going to have some serious apologising to do when he got back home. "It wasn't mine to share. But I just — you get so bloody high and mighty, Mum. Like you're the only person who could possibly have Harry's best interests at heart — you hated Sirius even before we got together because having him around meant that Harry might not need you as much anymore. And knowing what I know, I can't be sure if that hate comes from a genuine care for Harry, or just because you're mad at losing access to the Boy-Who-Lived and everything that comes with it. And that doesn't even touch on how shitty you've been about my relationship — about all our relationships. Bloody hell, Mum; Ginny is going out with Neville Longbottom and you're still mad about it!" He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head incredulously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to burst in here and derail Christmas," he said, grimacing. "But I'm done with letting you pretend you care so much about Harry's wellbeing when really you only care about what Dumbledore's told you."
"There's more to that boy than you realise, Charlie," his mother warned him, voice shaking. "You'll get hurt, if you're not careful."
"I think I know Harry a hell of a lot better than you do, Mum," he retorted.
"So you know he's got You-Know-Who in his head, then?" Ron sneered. "Or has he turned you, as well?"
Charlie just shook his head sadly. "Harry hasn't turned, and neither have I," he said simply. "And maybe one day, Ron, you'll grow up enough to understand what real friendship is. It sure as hell isn't reporting your friend's every bloody move to people like Dumbledore." In the chair next to Ron, Hermione let out a tiny gasp — had she really thought Harry wouldn't figure it out?
Charlie turned away, squeezing his dad's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'll go."
"I'll walk you out."
He didn't say goodbye to the rest — he'd see them soon enough, anyway. So he let his father walk him back to the door, the man looking decades older than he had when Charlie first showed up. "I— how long have you known?" Arthur asked, voice cracking. "About your mother?"
"Harry told me when I saw him before the first task of the Triwizard," Charlie replied honestly. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath.
"You should have come to me, son."
"I couldn't. Harry couldn't. If Dumbledore found out that he knew…" Harry had been far too vulnerable for the truth to come out back then.
His father looked grim. "I've been putting my trust in the wrong man for far too long, haven't I?" he realised. Charlie nodded.
"If it helps, so has everyone else," he said, shrugging. "He's very good at being trustworthy." Charlie had trusted him, too, until Harry showed him the truth.
Arthur gripped Charlie's hand tight for a moment. "Will you give Harry a message for me?" he pleaded, and Charlie nodded. "Tell him… tell him I had no idea, about any of it. I'm so sorry for any harm my family may have done him. If he wants recompense—"
"He doesn't," Charlie assured quickly, knowing his dad didn't have that kind of money, but he'd give it up regardless if Harry asked. "He doesn't care about the money, not really. It's the lies that hit the hardest." The money was pocket change for Harry. The broken trust was not.
"Right. Then… tell him I'm sorry, and I will deal with Molly, and I love him. He's still family, no matter what." Arthur's blue eyes softened behind his glasses. "You're still family, Charlie. Albus Dumbledore can go hang — nothing will get between a Weasley and his kids."
Charlie grinned, pulling his dad into a tight hug, a few tears sneaking from his eyes. "I love you, Dad," he murmured. He felt lips press to his hair, arms squeezing around him.
"I love you too, son. Always will." When he pulled back, Arthur was grinning. "And between you and me, I think Sirius is brilliant, and I'm delighted you two have found happiness together. I always thought about writing to him, but I didn't want to upset Molly."
That was his father's only flaw — not wanting to upset his wife. Maybe now he might realise what he stood to lose by standing by her like that.
"You should. Write, that is. To Sirius. And to Harry. He'd like to hear from you." Harry had never said it, but Charlie could tell how terrified the kid was that Arthur knew about his wife's duplicity, that he supported it. Harry was so quick to believe that anyone who appeared to care for him had an ulterior motive.
With his track record, Charlie couldn't blame him.
"I'll do that, then," Arthur assured with a decisive nod. "Don't be a stranger, Charlie. Even if you need me to meet you somewhere. I'm only an owl away."
"I'll remember that. See you, Dad."
With one last squeeze to the shoulder, Arthur let his son go, and Charlie trudged back out to the edge of the wards.
He couldn't go home yet. Not after that. He couldn't disrupt two family Christmases with that sort of drama. An idea sparked in his mind — there was one other sibling missing from the Weasley family table. One sibling who was probably working on something, but would be happy to let him sit and bitch about their fucked up family.
He was going to visit Percy.
.-.-.-.
Draco's fingers were running through Harry's hair, and Harry was hard pressed not to fall asleep from the sensation.
This had definitely been the best Christmas he could ever remember having. Not that he had that many to compare it to, but even so.
They were all sprawled out in various parts of the living room, now; full of food and good cheer and — in some cases — significant amounts of alcohol. Even when Charlie had disappeared for three hours and come back quite a bit drunker than he'd left, confessing to letting the cat out of the bag with his mum and passing on an apologetic message from Arthur Weasley, that wasn't enough to bring Harry's mood down. It was bound to come up eventually, and he didn't really care if Dumbledore figured out he knew the truth about that — he was so close to getting rid of Voldemort he didn't really need the old man to think Harry was oblivious to his inheritance, to the blocks on his magic.
Maybe he'd care a bit more in the morning, when he wasn't quite so tired and blissed out from Christmas, but that was a problem for the future. Right now the only thing he cared about was Draco's hand in his hair, his head in the blond's lap.
He might have laughed, had he seen that on the other sofa, Remus and Snape were in almost the exact same position as he and Draco, the werewolf dozing as Snape's fingers scratched gently at his scalp, a book in the Potions Master's free hand.
"I think I'm going to call it a night," Narcissa sighed, getting to her feet with a graceful stretch. "It's late, and I'm not as young as I used to be."
Several people in the room snorted. "You're young enough that that excuse is bullshit," Sirius told her playfully. "But go on, go to bed. You might have the right idea, to be honest; we leave it much longer and we'll be carrying the boys to their rooms."
"I'm awake," Harry insisted sleepily, eyes still closed. He felt more than heard Draco's chuckle.
"Only barely, by the look of you," Narcissa remarked. There was a shuffling of fabric, and Harry cracked an eye open long enough to see the blonde woman lean down to kiss her son's forehead, then pat Harry's cheek gently. "Goodnight, darlings."
"Goodnight, Mother."
"G'night, Cissa," Harry murmured, smiling slightly.
She left, and Sirius let out a big sigh. "Come on then, you lot. Everyone to bed. Too many damn good mattresses in this place for us all to be sleeping on sofas."
"Now who's not as young as they used to be," Draco teased, yelping at the very weak Tickling charm that earned him. "Rude."
"My godson's a terrible influence on you," Sirius declared. "You never used to be such a mouthy little git."
Harry snorted. "That's what you think. Ow!" Draco poked him in the ribs, jerking him out of his pleasantly sleepy state. "Please, you know I love you because you're a mouthy little git, not in spite of it."
Draco jostled his leg pointedly until Harry dragged himself upright, his glasses crooked on his face. The blond's expression turned fond, his hand reaching out to straighten them, fingers brushing affectionately across Harry's cheek.
It was such an innocent gesture, something he'd done a hundred times before, but for some reason this time it made Harry's breath catch in his throat. Stunned, it took a moment to gather himself — luckily, Draco thought he was just tired.
"You go up," Harry murmured, kissing him softly. "I'll help Pads tidy up in here, meet you in a bit."
The Slytherin cocked his head with a curious expression — they both knew Ceri would clean up once they'd all gone to bed. Then he just shook his head. "Okay. Don't blame me if I'm asleep when you get there." As if to make his point, he yawned, and Harry chuckled.
Remus and Snape bid them goodnight, making their own sleepy way out of the room, and Harry took the record off the player, setting it carefully back in its sleeve.
"What's up, kiddo?" Sirius appeared at his shoulder, voice low, eyes concerned. Harry glanced around — Charlie was nowhere to be seen, either. Evidently Harry was not as subtle as he thought he was.
No matter. They all probably just thought he wanted a quiet moment with his godfather on Christmas. Which wasn't untrue, but…
Harry leaned back against Sirius, looking up at him. "I was wondering… would it be safe for us to take a trip to Gringotts, sometime before I go back to school?" he asked, watching the confusion flicker across his godfather's face. "Just me and you," he clarified.
"I… I don't see why not, yeah. We'd have to time it right, but— it's certainly doable." Sirius frowned, one hand coming to rest in Harry's hair, ruffling it lightly. "Anything in particular you wanted to look at? I—" His expression faltered. "I know things have been a bit of a jumble of everyone's family stuff while we're figuring out how to do the holidays now. If you wanted more Potter stuff involved — there's a Hindu celebration they used to do, but it's in mid-January, so you'll be back at school by then."
"No, no, it's not that," Harry assured. Though he made a mental note to come back to that Hindu celebration thing. "I did want to go to the Potter vault. But it's not about the holidays — this has all been brilliant, honestly." He bundled up the nerves coiling in his belly, along with the words he hadn't even known he'd been bottling up for so long until just now. "I— it's not that I don't want Remus there. Because I really do, he means as much to me as you do, but I don't want to make him keep secrets from Severus, not about this, it's not fair on him—" Harry saw the glint of amusement enter Sirius' eyes, the one that said he was rambling and the older man found it adorable. "I wanted to look at the jewellery. In the Potter vault," he blurted.
The amusement faded, replaced by shock. "Oh. Oh." Grey eyes widened. "Are you sure, pup? There's no rush for it." He snorted quietly. "I don't think he's gonna change his mind any time soon."
Harry's cheeks burned. "I know. And I'm not saying I'll do it now, or even soon. But… I want to look." Now that he'd started thinking about it he couldn't stop — though really, if he was being completely honest, he'd been thinking about it ever since his birthday party, seeing that ring on Oliver's finger and how happy it made him and Cassius both. Thinking how perfect Draco's narrow fingers would look with a band of silver there.
He fully expected Sirius to tell him they were far too young for all that, that he needed to shelve that thought for at least a couple of years. So he was surprised when the dog animagus pressed a kiss to his temple, humming quietly. "You know, pup — everything else, you're your mother's son, no doubt about it. But when it comes to romance? You're Jamie's boy, through and through." He chuckled. "You little sop."
Harry grinned. "So you'll take me?" he asked, hoping Sirius was as willing to indulge his romantic nature as he had been his father's.
"Alright, then," Sirius agreed. "I'll figure out a good time to sneak off and let you know. And I won't tell anyone. Not even Moony," he promised, winking. "I— really?"
"Like I said, I don't think he's gonna change his mind any time soon," Sirius repeated with a smirk. He nudged Harry's shoulder, urging him in the direction of the door. "Go on, go snuggle up with your boy. Dream about putting a ring on his finger next Christmas," he teased, making Harry's blush brighten.
"Only if you do the same," he challenged. Sirius faltered, then laughed, his gaze getting a little wistful.
"Y'know what, I just might," he retorted, sticking his tongue out. "Sweet dreams, pup. Love you."
"Love you, too." Harry rocked up on his toes, pressing a kiss to Sirius' stubbled cheek, then left the room, heading for his bedroom.
Maybe he would have those dreams. If he did, it certainly wouldn't be the first time.